Pass Me the Dagger
by Whoops-C
Summary: After leaving the Jedi, life has been rough for Ahsoka. Not long after leaving, she's thrown into a turbulent, churning sequence of scandals, murders, and an uncovered plan stemming right from the heart of the Senate. But who'll believe or help her, after she's kidnapped to be the test subject of a twisted experiment? No one, except a small girl with a dagger in her hand.
1. Chapter 1

The halls of the Temple seemed empty and barren.

Anakin walked past the pristine white pillars, the carefully painted walls of white marble. His own footsteps echoed back to him, seemingly loud and harsh in his ears. Every step brought the urge

to physically recoil from the sound.

Step lightly, Anakin. Tread as softly as you can. That's the tipping point between life and death in war.

Isn't that what Obi-Wan told him, a million years ago? Soften your footsteps, avoid being detected, to the point where even you aren't sure if you're even really there. Isn't that how Obi-wan once joked about, stepping so quietly it's like you're meditating while walking?

But the last thing he needed was to lose himself. Everytime he meditated, he felt himself losing his conscious in his own mind, submerged in the memories of...that…

It happened half a standard year ago. Why was he still remembering it like it just happened?

Every time he closed his eyes, instead of becoming one with the force, he saw her. Her receding back, as she stepped down the ivory steps towards a cruel world, without a weapon or target. Not even looking back. Not a single tremor in her step. As strong as he'd taught her to be, hiding her sadness easily from the naked eye.

Not from the Force, though. He's sensed the pain, an emotional stab wound that was almost physical, pulsing with her heartbeat. She wanted to turn back, go back, take back what she said to the Council, to him. Ask to be a Jedi again, to go back to the life she knew. Why didn't she?

Another memory surfaced; he was asking Obi-wan a question: "Why did she leave?"

It was a question that should've come from nine-year olds Anakin's mouth, not his. But Obi-wan answered it as respectfully as if he was answering the Council's inquiry on a mission report. And as unemotional, bland, meaningless, and official as a mission report.

"It was her choice, Anakin. She understood the emotional onslaught turning back would bring, as well as the attacks of the media. Her insight is remarkable for her age; she saw the political issues it would bring if the public saw a convicted Jedi return."

"But she was cleared! Of all charges! That was announced to the public too!"

Obi-wan only smiled sadly, a bitter turn of the lip that held no happiness. "The public is...complex, Anakin. That's partially an unspoken reason why Jedi don't marry. Scandals will surface, accusations are made, support will fall, even farther down than where it is now. People have an interesting mind, and the tend to ignore the truth, even if it stares them in the face, in favor of a lie that benefits their state of mind."

"That's stupid." Was the only reply he could make to it at the time. In his mind, however, thoughts were flying, a whirlwind of stormy thoughts that crackled with fury and hatred. I could change that. I could silence the public, I'm popular enough right? Or, I'll do it by force. I'll protect her from whatever they say, I'll make it safe for her to come back, I'll-

Now, he stared out a window, at the artificial bio-dome of a sky, with it's unnatural pinks and blues receding to black. The lights of the city created a faint glow, visible even in the fading light of the sun. And as they brightened, Anakin thought about his ex-Padawan, somewhere out among those lights, or beyond the bio-dome above his head.

She was fine, he knew. She was strong, and smart. He had no doubt that she was safe somewhere right now, and living peacefully. But he had to wonder, where was she now?

* * *

Ahsoka stared through the dark visor of her welding helmet, observing the complex of metal engine parts above, each one coated with a noticeable amount of black, stinking oil.

Ugh. This was going to take all day. She slid out from under the speeder and sat up, stretching her back. The brief expedition in the belly of the racer had led to her blue jumpsuit being splotched with oil in every shade of brown and black, stinking, shiny stains that would take a long time to wash out.

"Aeso! Find the problem?"

The quavery voice belonged to Okar, an old Quarren man who was gracious enough to hire her when no one else would. Maybe it was that he had the heart to know she wasn't a twisted villain, or that he was lonely after his son left for Naboo to be a scientist. She worked with him as a mechanic in his garage, helping scrape together a living in exchange for a roof over her head. The only condition was, she had to wear the welding mask over her face all day, every day, and take the identity of a hideously scarred male Torgruten named Aeso, to keep from discouraging customers.

That was another problem. Ahsoka had had to wear disguises before; in fact, she'd done it often, on missions and whatnot, with a large hood or a heavy jacket. She'd never imagined, however, that she'd have to hide her face every day, but it happened. A hot, heavy slab of metal and vibra-glass over nose, eyes and mouth whenever in presence of, well, just about anyone.

"Yeah, I found the problem." She pulled off her thick mechanics gloves and gestures at the speeder. "It's choked with grease. I wouldn't be surprised if it's gotten into the ignition gearings too."

"Hmh." He wiggles his tentacles in thought. "The customer wants it by sundown tonight. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, yeah. It'll cost some extra though." She groans and pulls on the gloves again, getting on her back to slide under the speeder once more.

In the dark shadow of the vehicle, she had time to think. As she performed the repetitive motions of cleaning, pulling off one part, wiping it down, and repeating, she recollected her time outside of the Order, a practice she used to remind herself how lucky she was to find a place to work and live.

It was rough living as a Jedi-turned-citizen. People avoided her as much as possible, crossing to the other side of the street as she passed by, ducking their heads when they caught sight of her, and even hissing if she looked at one place too long. Not even Tookas wanted to go near her, mewling fearfully and leaping away when she got too close. Jobs were hard enough to come by as it was, and who was going to hire someone who scared everyone away?

The most painful, yet bittersweet memory, however, was that one time. And as much as she tried to ignore it, it was difficult, and snatches of it flashed when she least expected it.

Only a month. One lunar rotation on Coruscant, and already she was struggling to keep her own head on her shoulders.

In hindsight, it was foolish to have tried to start out in the lower grounds, but that's where she went, to find a bounty or something to get started. Except, she should've known better not to stick her noses in places that didn't welcome her.

It was awful rude when she walked into a bar and was immediately chased out by alcohol bottles and gun fire.

The first few days she lived sparingly on the few credits she had in her pocket, sleeping restlessly on rooftops and out-of-reach places to avoid detection. Within a week, however, she had to find a source of income, and quickly.

She turned to scrap-hunting. Scouring the alleyways for old metal scraps and engine parts that she might be able to sell again. It was unforgiving work, paying little for whatever she could bring together. She sold her ware door to door, to droid repair shops, mechanics, and so on. It didn't help that many of her customers cheated her out of already sparse pay, out of need, greed, or simply because they wanted to spite her.

It wasn't long before she gave up.

Living on the meager scrapings she made, was hardly enough to get her a solid roof over her head. A small, dingy apartment was the best she could afford, with a leaky sink and rickety metal sheet of a bed. Whatever she didn't use on rent was used on food, but what she could get was thin and unsubstantial. And it showed, her clothes hanging pathetically off of her increasingly skinny frame as she struggled to hide her weakness under heavy cloaks.

It couldn't last forever. She knew that. And when she collapsed in a back alleyway from exhaustion one day, she wondered if her eyes would be closing for the last time.

There was a girl. A human one, looking a little like Padme with her brown hair and large eyes. A little like Steela, with dark skin and a determined set to her mouth. Standing silhouetted by golden light in a doorway in front of her, staring down without the slightest hint of surprise. Like she knew all along.

Her hand extends, except is it really a hand? It is, but its digits are cold metal and its nails are chrome, the palm is a burnished copper that gleams like fire and gold. Light danced hypnotically across the surface, holding Ahsoka's attention like a curious toy holds a child's.

The shining fingers suddenly gestured impatiently, causing Ahsoka to blink and twitch at the surprising movement. The girl is frowning, looking annoyed, like trying to get an old friend to hurry up."Well? You coming or not?" She snaps, hand still extended.

* * *

The memory faded away into darkness, leaving Ahsoka staring up at the engine cavity, with numerous metal tubes and wiring strewn around her, each one relatively free of oily sludge.

Well, at least it's all clean now… She huffs under the mask, successfully fogging her visor and making it all the more difficult to see. Picking up one of the pieces and pulling a spiral-shaped tool from her pocket, she starts attaching it in place, while Okar hobbled around dealing with another customer's speeder.

"Aeso, almost done?"

"Uh…" She looks at the gaping hole where the engine should be, and was not, and was instead scattered around her in many pieces. "Yeah."

"Good, the customer gave me a heads up. He's coming in a few minutes."

"Shoot!" Hurriedly fixing the tube on, she grabs the next sections and pulls out a small blowtorch, feeling the heat through the mask as she welds it in place. "Um, how many minutes, exactly?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Any minute now. I think that's him outside right now."

Fantastic. Wonderful. Way to go Snips. She groans inwardly, pulling off her gloves. It was time to use a trick that she didn't like to use, but was handy for situations like this.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and drowns herself in her own consciousness. Feels the Force running throughout the garage, touching every last screw and misplaced tool, the parts around her, Okar moving about. She extends her mind towards the inanimate wires and tubes around her, the tools in her pockets, the engine cavity above that she needed to fill, and focused her mind to a knife-sharp point of concentration.

There was that familiar feeling of warmth flushing through her veins, the almost painful needle-point clarity of all her surroundings, and the Force. Just the Force, helping her, guiding the pieces under her command. She willed the waves to move, carrying the segments to where they were supposed to go, tools floating around to fix them in place. Wires bent and fused to metal, tubes slotted themselves into their spaces, screws twirled and squeaked into their holes. Everything as it should be.

It wasn't an easy trick. She'd only mastered it a few weeks ago, practicing at night on old engines and speeders that never did get fixed. She had meant for it to help Okar, but he refused to let her use it after she showed it to him, saying that it'd attract attention if she was caught. In reality, she suspected that the trick had spooked him a little.

"Aeso!"

Not a second too soon, the last wire twisted itself into place, and the tools clattered lifelessly to the ground. Ahsoka's eyes snapped open, and she takes one last good look at the set up, before pulling herself out from under the speeder to stretch and groan.

"Aeso! The customer is here? Did you finish?"

"Yeah, yeah. S'right here." She gestures toward the speeder, battered, dented, the red flame paint job long since faded beneath the film of filth.

The owner of the speeder (though Ahsoka thought it was just a piece of junk when it first arrived), was a gruff Twi-lek. As he approached, Ahsoka could've sworn she caught a glimpse of disappointment, but it's gone before she could double-check herself.

"Well, how'd ya do on meh speeder, eh? If it doesn't work, I'm suein' ya both." He huffs, a voice so rough Ahsoka had a hard time deciphering it.

"No, no, Ahs- Aeso, is my best mechanic. He can fix anything. Right, Aeso?" Okar wheezed, looking pointedly at Ahsoka.

She just nods in agreement, to avoid the trouble of changing her voice. A brief moment of silence paused, during which she wondered why the stranger was staring at her, until she realized: Oh yeah, he wants his key back.

Fumbling slightly, she digs around in the endless pits that were pockets in her mechanic's suit, before coming up with a small, slightly misshapen ignition key, attached to a keychain with a rubbery tab shaped like a Tooka face. Swallowing a question about the...design choice, she offers the key to the customer, hand outstretched.

He grunts and takes it, and climbs into the seat of the speeder. After a heart-stopping moment, during which Ahsoka wondered if there was some place she misplaced a tube, didn't attach a wire, didn't clean a gear properly, when there was suddenly the healthy purr of a fixed engine. She sighed in relief, allowing her shoulders to sag from the released tension.

The Twi-lek's face splits into a toothy grin, revealing yellow triangular teeth. "Ah, good job! How much do I owe ya?"

Okar seemed to deflate a little bit out of relief as well, a smile forming beneath his twitching tentacles. "Well, considering that you wanted to speeder to be fixed within a day, and that you inexplicably got grease in every possible section of the engine-right Aeso?" He aims a pointed look at Ahsoka, at which she nodded tiredly in agreement. At this point, the most she wanted to do was get a meal and go to sleep.

"Hey, that was because of a couple pranksters in my area, not my fault. And I think… nine hundred credits is a fair deal."

"Nine hundred? I was thinking fifteen hundred for the trouble you've caused us."

"Fifteen hundred, that's insane! Whatcha gonna do with the extra six hundred? I could buy a new vehicle with that money!"

"Not in this day and age, you can't. Not with all the bills going through the senate." At this, the Twi-lek smiled grimly and nodded in bitter agreement, and there was a pause as both of them contemplated the difficulties of what lay ahead, with all the laws coming through, digging themselves into their personal lives.

Ahsoka was only too painfully aware of what was happening. When looking for a housing complex that would take her, she found that the ones that would take her, couldn't, because of the recent Public Protection Decree 134: Any citizen or being with a criminal record on their file, be it stealing a speeder or forgetting to return a borrowed toy at standard age three, as long as it was reported to the officials, it would be put on record. Any recording of criminal record meant it was illegal to live in a housing area within a three sector radius of a public area. And considering how most of Coruscant was public space, it was rather difficult for anyone to live anywhere.

"Aye, it's like they're trying to rip away whatever freedom we have left and cover it up with promises of safety." Said the Twi-lek, before smiling cruelly. "So how about it? I can compromise with a thousand one-fifty."

"A thousand one-seventy five, and you have a deal." The two shook on it, and the customer drove away out of the garage.

The moment the growl of the speeder faded away, she took the moment to pull off the heavy mask, to relish the cool air on her face. But the moment barely lasted, when another speeder pulled in, even more filthy and trashy then the last. Ahsoka barely had time to flip the slab of metal back on before the new customer stepped out, a towering, rust-colored Trandoshan whose head almost brushed the ceiling.

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly as she had to tilt her face upward to stare at the newcomer. After being kidnapped and used as sport on Felucia, she hadn't exactly been fond of the alien species, even when she tried her best not to hold it against all of them. Still; every time she looked at a scaly face or clawed hands, she saw a pale, dirt-smudged face, framed by short, brown hair singed by blaster-fire.

She forced the memory away as she dragged herself back into reality. Later, she'd meditate and pay her respects, but for now she had no quarrel with this Trandoshan, as big and ugly as he might be.

"Welcome, welcome." Wheezed Okar, shuffling forward. "What's the problem?"

The being didn't reply, simply looking around the room with distaste. He lands his gaze on her, and for a moment she thought she saw recognition, or something, flitting over those slit-pupiled eyes. But it's gone just as quickly, before she could be sure.

"Right, right. Here-" He kicks the speeder, causing it to shudder and dip a few centimeters down before shakily reverting to its original height. "It's slow. I need ya to make it faster, before tonight." He hisses, punctuating his sentences with clicks at random intervals.

Okar took his time looking over the speeder, examining everything from the cracked leather seats to the dented, rust-covered hood. After a few practiced minutes: "I don't see the problem."

"What?"

"Other then the, er, appearance." Okar gestured towards the speeder, and Ahsoka silently agreed. While colors and patterns were never anything of particular interest to her, the ugly clashing of badly painted orange flames and brown mud stains wasn't particularly appealing. Not to mention, the overall smell. Like cheap alcohol and smoke.

The Trandoshan didn't seem to hear the comment on his design taste. "I know it's not broken. But I need you to make it faster. And by tonight."

"Uh, what? Why?"

He rolled his eyes, showing yellow webbed with bluish veins. "Race tonight. Grand prize is twenty thousand credits. You'd have to be an idiot to miss on that."

"Street racing is illegal." was Okar's only remark. Okar had a surprising tolerance for such actions, as long as his customers didn't link him to their deeds. In times like this, he needed as much money as he could get, regardless of the source.

"What's yer point?"

"Nothing. How much would you be willing to pay for an upgraded engine exhaust system? It'd clear the filth out quicker and go faster, as you wanted. For a speedy completion, it'd be twelve hundred."

"Twelve hundred, eh?" He scratched the scales on his skin, producing a rather irritation skrtch skrtch sound. "Guarantee me a win and you have a deal, old man."

"Alright. Aeso can have it for you by sundown. Is that alright, mister, er...?" At the sound of 'his' name, Aeso stepped forward, hand extended for the ignition key. The Trandoshan took one more long, curious look at her. And while she was sure she was disguised adequately, she still felt uncomfortable.

"Tooth's the name. Say, why's that kid got a mask on? He's been wearing it the whole time."

The question was so sudden she didn't know how to react, just froze and held her breath as she matched his gaze through the darkened visor.

"Ah. Well…" Okar shifted awkwardly. "Aeso here's got a bad scar on his face. Got it from a Wookie fistfight a while back. Not the smartest choice on his part, of course but...can't change the past, can ya?"

"Hmm. What's with his hands then? Awful skinny for a boy like him."

Ahsoka cursed inwardly. Her hands, slender and long fingered, are the last things you'd expect on a mechanic. It was stupid of her to take them off, but right now she couldn't do anything. Just froze in quiet regret and hoped some miracle would gloss this over, and quickly.

In the end, it was Okar who saved her. After an awkward moment of quiet passed, he suddenly stepped forward, partially putting himself between Tooth and Ahsoka.

"Listen, do you want the modification by tonight, or no? If you waste any more time, you'll be losing the race altogether." He snapped, tentacles cracking whiplike as he spoke, a not-so-subtle sign of his waning temper.

Tooth nodded reluctantly, and made a motion as to hand the key over. Ahsoka turned her hand, palm up, expecting the key.

Suddenly, the hand flicked lightening fast at her face, so fast she could barely react when it grabbed her mask and tried to wrench it away, claws scraping the metal on both sides. She'd reacted just in time and reached up with both hands, pressing the metal against her face, feeling the surface of the metal grow wet against her face from her hyperventilating breath. Her visor was almost completely fogged, so she could hardly make out shapes or colors. Tooth was pulling with enough force to pull her forward a step, one of his hands biting painfully into her shoulder as he tried to pull the mask away. After a brief second of grappling, the hand released and Tooth backed off, face contorted into what might have been contemplation, or disappointment.

"Sorry 'bout that… I'll go somewhere else." He growled, stepping into the speeder and driving off. Before long, there's nothing but a dust cloud lingering in the distance.

There's silence. Nothing but the distant rumble of pedestrians and vehicles, a white noise to Coruscant citizens. After a moment, Okar breaks it, placing a rubbery hand on her shoulder in somewhat-awkward condolence.

"Ahsoka. Take the rest of the day off, okay? You need a break. I'll call you down for dinner." And with that, he moves away, to tend to the other projects around the garage.

Ahsoka trudged upstairs, feeling defeat. It didn't take long to free herself from the blue jumpsuit and clean herself up, but she didn't change into her pajamas immediately, as she would usually do. Instead, she found her old outfit from the Jedi Temple, sitting innocently at the bottom of a messy pile of clothes.

Bad idea. Bad idea. Good idea? Bad idea.

She puts it on. She smiles, touching the front of the tunic and smoothing out a few stubborn wrinkles. It felt like sparring with Anakin on the Temple grounds, when she make a particularly good move and he was smiling as he whirled his lightsaber. It felt like playing holo-chess with Obi-Wan, when she found herself stuck in another clever pit trap and he was making not-so-subtle hints as to what to do next. It felt like meditating with Plo-Koon on a long mission, when the pent-up energy was turning into anxiety and he noticed, sitting down cross-legged next to her and motioning for her to do the same. It felt like jumping with her, leaping over the buildings of Coruscant, watching how the artificial light catch and dance on her hand as she leapt and dodged and weaved around the obstacles, with the gracefulness and fluidity of a Naboo swamp eel. It felt like, it felt like;

Home.

And right now, that was what she needed. Something of home, again. Wearing the outfit was nice and all, but it needed something to make it feel right, again. A rare breeze blew against the window, rattling quietly. A soft beckoning towards the outside.

Didn't Tooth mention a race tonight, somewhere? And while she couldn't race in it, she could sure watch, couldn't she? She remembered how once, Anakin dragged her to a pod race, telling her about how he used to race like that, how all he wanted to do when he was younger was race the pods that he built and free other slaves. At first, it was a bit dull, but Anakin's ecstasy of watching it was contagious, and she found herself inevitably hooked on it.

Bad idea. Bad idea. You need to stop. Why do you do this?

Let's go.

* * *

"Why isn't she answering?"

Okar grumbled, annoyed. He stumped into the hall and tapped on the door, expecting a "I'm coming" or "Give me a bit". Instead, he was met with a curious silence.

The door opened, and he peeked in. There was the room, as messy as always, despite his constant reminders to clean it. A small picture of his son, Oster, hung by the window, now open for some reason. There was a message typed out on her holo-pad, sitting on the bed.

Out for a bit. Be back before midnight, don't worry.

~Ahsoka.

That child… But a grin tugged at his mouth, as he reread the brief message. She really was just like Oster, wherever he was. He went to sleep, mind at peace. He had no concern for Ahsoka.

After all, he was sure that she could take care of herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yo yo yo!...I have so much regret in my life!**

 **So I worked on this instead of studying for a test, so there are probably so many problems in this. But I'm not going to take care of it now, so if you catch any grammar issues, hit me up with a review and I'll do a callout thing or something in the next chapter idk**

 **Anyway, thanks for being patient with me! I know I have about fifty other fics and stories I should also be working on, but I'm not working on, because I have absolutely no source of motivation or any idea of how to handle time. As always, leave a review on whatever you think about this new chapter, and enjoy!**

* * *

She should have known how to better take care of herself.

Approximately two hours ago, she'd been at home, tired, angry, scared, and confused, and recklessly decided to ignore the blatantly obvious clues stating exactly _why_ she should not leave and travel to, of all places, a bar in the lower slums, where only slum-draggers and petty criminals hung.

A place that she'd be lucky to escape out of tonight.

The Force sent her a hint as she leapt through the depths of the city layers, jumping roof to roof. A curious chill ran up her neck, causing her to stumble on the top of a building, tripping over a rooftop pipe. She fell on her side in a clumsy attempt to break the fall, and had stayed in that position out of shock, left side cold and bruising on the greasy metal of the roof. After a moment, she picked herself up, cleaned up a little bit, and continued off on her path, blaming the sensation on bad history from the area, and only hastened her journey to an illegal podrace.

Another sign had been sent to her during the race. Despite having chosen an out-of-sight area to observe (crouching on the top of a bent and rusty streetlight) she clutched a heavy dark cloak around her, praying that no wandering eye would recognize her. As she sat there, perched like a Farlus hawk at roost, watching the colorful speeders speed below in colorful streaks of light, and the slow-motion replays on the flickering anti-grav screens that hung dangerously above the heads of the spectators, she felt it again. Amid the cheers that she partook in quietly, and the enjoyable thrill as she watched her chosen racer (a sleek maroon stripe down the track), the Force warned her, that she _should not be there._

This time, it was more urgent, more nagging, and rumbled from the base of her neck outwards, to her shoulders and spine. Strong enough to make her teeth rattle slightly in her skull, and for her to nearly drop from her seat to the racetrack below. She steadied herself quickly, hand reaching out to grab frantically at the lamp head, briefly releasing the cloak.

After a few heartstopping moments, she was forced to conclude that she couldn't stay here much longer, and had to leave as soon as possible.

From there, her memory was a literal blur of objects and beings moving past, as she rushed through the streets. The safest option to get back was via public transport, she concluded, so as to hide among the surrounding citizens. It would take longer than her preferred method of jumping, but it would conserve precious energy and guarantee safety in numbers.

And so she sat, knee jittering nervously on the white-gray floor and eyes scanning the surrounding patrons anxiously. The only people on the sub-transit now were a few old Bith in the corner, submerged in a card game and chittering in a foreign tongue. Being so low in the sector, her appearance could be considered one of the more normal ones compared to some others, so attention wouldn't be attracted to her unusually large cloak covering her face. No, the real danger came when she had again,foolishly, let her guard down.

Two layers away from Okar's sector, she stopped. The spare credits she had left was hardly enough for another transfer to a different sub, so she was forced to resort to old fashioned travel. Or, as Anakin called it, 'booking it the hell out of there on legs', as she recalled with a smile.

That's when the real danger occurred, in the form of an eavesdropped word from the few groups of shady-looking humanoids huddled in passed alleyways. Ahsoka could hardly be sure if she had really heard them correctly, or if her frayed nerves were simply firing off a bit too eagerly, but what she had heard was enough to send her legs pumping faster down the street.

"Yes-the Seperatists-"

"Looking for them-Jedi-type-"

"Convicted girl-?"

"-Testing-"

 _Oh no. No, no no no no_ She thought frantically, feeling her legs beginning to burn and lungs working drily. _Have to get home, have to warn them!_

 _Who's 'them'?_

A brief pause taken to catch breath asked that question, entering unwanted through her scrambled, fearful mantra. Who _was_ 'them'? Okar? The Council? Anakin?

If she told Okar, and he told authorities, he would most certainly be arrested if they found the record of his customers when they did a criminal check. And she would too, in turn, for faking identity without consent. She had no contact with the council anymore, and it was foolish to go and make any attempt to. Which only meant one choice.

 _Oh,_ bad _idea._

But what choice did she have?

* * *

Easy part; finding a holo-booth to make contact with two people she knew she could trust; one being Okar, telling him that she was fine, she'd be home as soon as possible, she was sorry, and to be careful, because some stuff was up and she was in a dangerous predicament. He knew better not to ask, and simply said 'come back when you can' in acknowledgement, before she hung up.

For the next call, she quickly removed the tracking chip from the console before making the call, to a safeguarded government line.

It was a sleepy-voiced Anakin that answered, punctuated by massive yawns and visible sounds of scratching. She grins as his bleary-eyed and tousle-haired face appears before her, outlined in neon blue.

"Hel-l-lOo?" He groans through the line, scratching at his scalp. His eyes were squinted, and a hint of stubble grazed his chin. He looked older, more tired, more rugged. Turning into a scoundrel, as Padme once said to her, when she told her about his latest attempt to shave with his lightsaber, to 'save time _and_ energy, plus I look bad-ass'.

"Hey, Skyguy. Snips is here."

"Ahsoka!?" Her greeting seems to snap any sleep from his face, and immediately he was wide-eyed and open-jawed with shock.

"One and only, unless someone else is using 'Skyguy' for you."

"What are you doing here? What's going on? Where are you?"

The questions tumbled out of his mouth like cheap DUM repair droids tumbling forward after unfolding. Excitable and demanding, as he always was, and she had to smile at it all.

"Uh, I need to talk to you, something dangerous is up, and I'm, uh-" she glances around the alleyway. She actually had no idea where she was, unless… oh.

The black scorch marks on the console cover and the walls. The deep tracks on the walls from a lightsaber. The dragged foot prints and indentations on the ground, the signs of a fight.

Where she had fought with Asaaj against a small battalion of troopers, a scenario she would never had guessed possible.

"I'm, uh, don't worry about it. I'm still on Coruscant."

"Why are you calling me now? Are you alright? What have you been doing-"

"Anakin, listen to me." She breaks through his slew of questions, the uncertainty of the situation settling in on her. "The Seperatists are enlisting bounty hunters to go after Jedi, or anyone with the Force, and I don't know why."

Anakin blinks. "Yeah, well. They do that a lot, don't they? Enlist bounty hunters for their dirty work."

"Yeah, but Anakin, listen. I don't _know_ what's going on, but I know for sure that it's not good. They're not going after Jedi directly, Anakin, because it's not for information. They had Barriss for that." speaking the name aloud put a bitter taste on her tongue, and she subconsciously grimaces. "They're not after new information either, because they're not targeting specific Jedi. They're after people with the Force, and I'm one of the bigger targets."

Despite having known Anakin for a long time, it was still a bit of trip to watch true, honest fear enter his face, the face of her former-Master, who she regarded as headstrong and unshakable. It was a brief pause where he registered the words, and thought it over.

"Where are you? _Exact_ coordinates."

The question throws her off. "Uh, I don't know. I'm at the place where the clone trooper had first...encountered me with Asaaj."

"Alright." Another pause, where he leaves the screen, leaving her staring at nothing but a flickering panel of light. Then he enters again.

"There's a bar near there, down the street and around the block. Go stay there, and stay low. I'll be coming over to meet you, okay?"

"What? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to help you. We can work out a safer place for you to stay, and maybe try and verify the info. I can't just go to the Council with this and go: 'oh yeah, a little Felucian-fungi-wasp told me this'." A shadow of an old grin passes over his face, and once more Ahsoka is struck by how _old_ he looks. A man who aged a millennia in the span of a few lunar cycles.

It hurts her more than she likes to admit.

"Alright. I'll meet you there." And with that, the holovid flickers into darkness.

She's left alone in the alleyway, and despite her knowledge that she wasn't out of water yet, she felt infinitely better about the whole ordeal.

* * *

That was, at least, until she was actually _at_ the bar, which proved to be home to the lowliest slime-crawlers imaginable.

"Hey, baby. Am I planet? 'Cuz you're the sun to my moons."

 _Please. For the love of all things holy to every species in this universe, shut up._ She groans inwardly, visibly cringing at the simple _terribleness_ at the pickup line, even beneath the heavy cloak she'd dug up from the depths of the closet. And yet, the remarkable thickness of this Rodian's skull seemed too dense for him to understand social cues, and he continues on to use his next, sixth bad line, without any smooth transition whatsoever.

And Ahsoka, who had had only the smallest amount of romantic knowledge in her possession, was sure that using line after line was not the way to try and woo someone.

WIth a sigh, she takes a sip from her cup of Alderaanian tea, in another not-so-subtle attempt to ward off the unwanted acquaintance. The bartender, who seemed sympathetic, asked if she would like an angel shot, but she declined, regrettably. The last she needed was alcohol and a reason to leave this place, not until Anakin showed up.

Still...this guy really didn't want to give in.

Her foot taps slowly against the stool, knee bouncing gently against the counter. Anxiety gnawed at her gut, because _where was Anakin?_

 _He's on his way. He's coming as fast as he can. He needs to get clearance from people, probably, or an excuse as to why he's getting a speeder at this time of night._ Logic suggests.

 _He's abandoned me. He's stuck and I'm alone. Something happened, he was attacked, and now I'm stuck at this bar until I either get caught or I get kicked out, and I don't know which is worse. Oh kriff, if he did get hurt, what do I tell Padme? Can I even_ tell _Padme!?_ Fear cried, much louder and much more convincingly.

Maybe she should have ordered alcohol.

She took another draught of her drink, feeling the scalding liquid burn at her throat. There were only a few wrinkled black dregs left, but she kept miming drinking, just to have something to do.

And still, the idiot beside her prattled on.

Ahsoka couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey, can you stop?"

The Rodian stops in the middle of his spiel on the sky and angels dropping to their doom, and blinks. "What?"

"You're really trying, and you're putting an impressive effort into it, but-" energized Anxiety fought against desperate and flagging Logic to speak. "I'm-I'm just not interested, okay? I'm expecting someone."

The words belonged to someone else, and it was strange feeling them on her tongue. She was speaking as frightened, teenage girl Ahsoka, not battle-scarred, trained-to-kill-for-most-of-her-life Jedi Padawan Ahsoka. She could hardly believe that she had it in her.

The sparsely populated bar was quiet, out of surprise? It wasn't that big of a deal, was it? At least, it shouldn't be. What was going on.

Her undesired associate was emotionless, and she suddenly felt something poke at her abdomen. She glances down, and felt her heart drop down, then leap back up to her throat.

The shiny black barrel of a pistol was directed at her, and the finger on the trigger was beginning to move.

"I don't think I _understand_ , darling. Let's not cause a scene, shall we?"

Not for the first time that night, Ahsoka reflected: She should have known how to take better care of herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yo thanks to WintersLoneWolf for pointing out the major publishing error on the last chapter, can't believe I didn't notice that for more then a month lmao...anyway here's chapter three, revamped and (hopefully) better!**

 **There's a little bit of PTSD in this one.**

* * *

Through the damp, filthy alleys and streets of Lower Coruscant, a single speeder carrying a hooded rider raced through the night.

Anakin held his body closer to the rented speeder-bike, trying to increase speed as he navigated the cramped darkness that was the city slums, ignoring the startled beggars and lowlife lining the streets and shadows. He turned sharply, pausing beneath a flickering streetlight to pull up a holo-map and check his position.

 _Not too long now, Snips._ He thought, noting the tavern's coordinates. Only a few klicks left to go, and he'd be able to get her out of there and back home, where Padme was waiting.

Somewhere inside of him, the experience-strengthened logic was whispering hushed worries and concerns of everywhere this plan could go to pieces. While Ahsoka was aware of his and Padme's relationship, and while Padme knew her situation and was more than willing to take Ahsoka in and protect her as needed, it was still dangerous, to himself and his beloved.

All it'd take is one slip, a briefest mention of an extra pair of shoes from a serving droid to a custodian manager, a curious remark of the extra cup on the table by a passing senator, or the careful gaze of Obi-Wan or any of the other Jedi Masters, and everything would come crashing down. He'd be banished from the Council in disgrace, Padme would be rejected by the Senate faster than a Public Works bill, and Ahsoka would immediately be thrown into prison, where it is doubtful that she might ever make it out again.

And yet, the raw desire to bring Ahsoka back, to have her live with him and Padme as something happy and normal, something akin to a family, was something that overruled any of his hesitation. More-or-less an orphan, who was Anakin to turn down the smallest chance for that?

A smile tugged at the corner of his lip as he thought about it, the three of them living in happy domesticity. Something he had never conceived possible, something that was impossible, and yet he had thought of it, created a dream out of it, wondering of how great it would be to have Ahsoka as a playful younger sister-figure, have Obi-wan drop in as the brother, and then he and Padme, or course, living peacefully as husband and wife. Sharing tea on the balcony as the artificial sun set and cast it's soft colors over the city, having pillow fights and late-night talks on the couch, even enjoying a simple meal together. The impossible dream of a lonely slave boy on Tatooine, still impossible now, but just a little less so.

 _Come on, Skyguy. Act now, dream later, Snips is counting on you._ He scolded himself, gearing up the bike once more and racing off in the direction of the bar. A cursory glance at the time on his holopad told him he had spent too long reminiscing and not nearly enough rushing, and he kicked off, going twice as fast as he should be legally, so fast, anyone watching would have seen a muted streak of brown and felt a brush of wind, and then nothing.

Except for one bystander, high above on a roof. Holding a pair of binoculars to their silver-masked face, as they stared down at Anakin, catching a glimpse of the coordinates on his holopad, and then his face before it was covered and he was gone; but it was enough to confirm their thoughts.

Stowing away the binoculars, they turned away from the edge of the building and began the run, leaping roof to roof in the direction of a grimy, dimly lit bar.

* * *

The stun gun poked once more at her belly, and Ahsoka fought hard not to flinch at the cool metallic touch.

The Rodian's face was twisted in a cruel smirk, the face made by a predator before pouncing upon prey. The sparse few patrons of the bar, a Twi-lek woman sitting with a Bothan man, a human sitting with a holopad and a gnarled Weequay, the anxious Dug bartender, the panicking serving droid hovering between tables; all were frozen with fear, or maybe anticipation? Beneath their nervous faces, Ahsoka detected malice, and sensed the movements of guns and knives being drawn, of hands tightening on glass bottles to break and use as weapons.

It was the bartender who broke the silence, shoving a fleshy hand between Ahsoka and the Rodian. "Take it outside," He huffed, looking worried but furious, nostrils twitching with anger. "I'm not having any of your bullwash, Greedo. Not today."

Before Greedo could speak, a shot rang out, and he collapsed. A circular patch, scorched there from a stun bolt, smoked on the back of his vest. The Weequay, now standing with a pistol in his hand, turned to aim it at her.

"I been lookin' fer you," He rasped, grinning a toothless smile. "Ze Separatists got a fine bounty on yer head, come along slowly now."

A glass bottle suddenly came down over his head, and he collapsed. The shot he had been aiming at her head hit her mug instead, bursting it into a small shower of clay shards and earning a furious shout from the bartender. Ahsoka, however, did not move, keeping her face as blank and emotionless as possible.

The wielder of the bottle was the Bothan, furred face twitching into what was a grin, though it could just as easily be a grimace. His Twi-lek companion drew a large sniper rifle from beneath the table ( _How did she get that in here?!_ Ahsoka thought indignantly. _I can't even take soap containers on public transports!_ ) and aimed it leisurely at her.

He snorted and huffed, snout twitching as the Twi-lek translated easily, still maintaining a grip on the gun. "You're coming with us, quietly please. No fuss, please?" She ended with a prissy pout, cocking the gun as she did so.

A shaky hand sudden materialized by her throat, holding a knife. The human, sweating but determined, shook his head almost comically. "Not happening. I need that money more than you."

Ahsoka could barely keep track of what in the _kriffin' hell_ was going on, but now all bounty hunters were more occupied with each other then her, which was a good enough distraction for her. Reaching over the counter, she grabbed a large bottle of something and threw it, smashing it at the far side of the room to her right. It was barely enough to make all of them glance over, but it was enough for her to leap onto the counter and to jump at the door.

Even as she was flying through the air, some hand snatched her out of the air by her cloak, and she fell, choking, to the hard cement floor. Someone fell onto her, and in no time at all she was buried beneath a tangle of bodies and flailing fists.

There was so much sound, so much screaming, so much yelling and gunfire, and somewhere, someone was laughing, raucous and rasped, punctuated by sharp hisses and snarls. The acrid smell of alcohol was mixed with smoke and blaster-fire, of charred flesh and burned hair, filling her nostrils and strangling her, overwhelming her. Something sharp, a broken bottle maybe, or was it a clawed hand? Scraped against her leg and drew a raw stinging line, and her resolve and frayed nerves faltered, as a primal fear seized at her heart.

She wasn't in a dirty bar anymore. The hard surface she was lying on wasn't cement, it was hard-packed dirt surrounded by strange leafy ferns. The dim lights above weren't from cheap broken lamps, it was from a clouded sun filtering through moss-covered branches and leaves. She was on that Trandoshan moon again, as the overgrown lizards searched and hunted and laughed, and she couldn't run anymore, her lungs were bursting, they were upon her, she was going to die, help help help help _help-_

A sound, too panicked to be a roar, too guttural and raw for a scream, was ripped from her lungs, and then the people on top of her were gone, thrown against the walls and counter-top, stunned and confused. The source of the sudden burst came from a wave of Force, the fading fiery remnants of which left her feeling slightly cold and empty and exposed, a frightened beast in a strange land. And then she was outside and running, running, running, climbing the side of the bar, leaping to the next building, then the other, and it wasn't rooftops that she was jumping and rushing through, it was the thick branches of tall trees, the nonexistent sounds of reptilian growling and engine hums chasing behind her.

At long last, she stopped, the sounds long since faded and her legs long since given out. The night's previous events had already torn all the energy from her frame, and now her legs shook and heart hammered as she slid down against a wall, gasping for breath as sobs were torn from her, short and painful. Every inch ached, a draining pain that settled into her bones and rendered her incapable of doing anything but cry.

 _It wasn't real._ She told herself, even as tears began to trail down her face and her ribs rattled with every shaky breath. _It was just a flashback. It's okay, you're okay, you're still in Coruscant. Anakin will be here any moment to help you. It'll be okay._

Except...and now she groaned and cursed, wiping at the tears furiously and she struggled to her feet. She was standing on the balcony of some abandoned apartment building, the glow of the bar no longer visible to her. She had to recontact him, or get back there before he arrived, the first of which was damn near impossible and the second of which was nearly as unlikely in her shaken condition.

 _No point in crying over spilled Bantha milk._ She thought, and placed a leg on the railing in preparation to call upon the Force to carry her back to the tavern, before the strains of people talking echoing from below froze her in place. One of them with the familiar throaty accent of a Trandoshan.

"Are you sure she was here?" It hissed, and Ahsoka clenched her fist so tightly she could feel her nails through the glove.

"Sure as all hell, Tooth." Replied another curiously accented voice, and she realized it was the Twi-lek that she and Okar had served earlier that day.

"Well, she can't have gone far. It took way too much research and scoping for her to get away this easily from me." Tooth replies, and the sounds of snuffling reached her, turning her blood cold. Trandoshans were renowned for their sense of smell, and even from this high up, she knew that it would not be long before she was located, even with the stench of alcohol and oil that clung heavily to her clothes.

A bright bolt of blue light suddenly shot up, right in front of her face. She yelped and stumbled backwards, and from below Tooth laughed cruelly. "We got her!" He crowed. "Up there!" And then a grappling hook latched itself to the railing, tied to rope leading below.

 _Mother-of-kriff-all!_ She turned, but the entrance that led onto the balcony was nailed down with heavy boards. With a lightsaber or a little time, she'd be fine, but she had neither. The way she had come was by jumping, and the fatigue clinging to her made it doubtful that she'd be as successful as she was when she came.

Caught in between panic and confusion, a single scaled hand grasped the edge of the balcony, and all thoughts were cleared from her head. Instead, the Force, and only the Force, warmth and comfort and reassurance, flowed from her spine and mind and directed her hands towards the appearance of an ugly, scaled head.

"There you are!" Tooth snarled with triumph, but the smirk melted when he realized what position he was in. It was the first thing to be known when fighting a Jedi: Don't stay at the edge.

The Force rushed from her, a tidal wave of invisible energy that crashed into him, and he was thrown across to crash into the building opposite. His limp body slid down to collapse bonelessly onto a fire escape. His Twi-lek accomplice shouted something, before a well aimed kick knocked the hook loose and send him tumbling down as well.

The night was silent for a moment, before pierced by a loud jarring _chirp._

Tooth, albeit battered, was not dead, and from his throat a loud high-pitched chirp echoed through the streets. A warning sign, one that meant reinforcements and danger, and a promise of a captured youngling. Ahsoka called upon the Force one more time, to carry her away, back to the tavern where Anakin was surely waiting and frantic, back to Okar who had a bed and a meal for her, anywhere but here.

But _gods,_ she was so tired. An Ahsoka from two years ago or so would be furious with her, angry and irritated with her idling and exhaustion, her sensitivity to the pressure of everything and how it overwhelmed her, crippled her. The Ahsoka right now couldn't find the energy to care.

The bright side of it, if there was one, was that now she was too tired to be nervous and cry. Instead, she began to look for a way out.

Rooftop leaping was not an option. The closest roof belonged to the building where she had just shoved Tooth off to, several dozen meters away, and she was incapable of pulling another leaping spree again. The fire escape of this building was long since rusted and gone, lying in pieces a couple hundred feet below. The only thing not deteriorating or destroyed in this place was the boards covering up the entrances inside the apartment, which Ahsoka could get nothing out of except a stinging shoulder and a string of curses.

As she contemplated, another grappling hook shot out and latched itself to the apartment wall near her, looking far more small and sleek then the one Tooth had used. It was attached to a taut black cable, which led to a building a few klicks to her left. An impossible distance to jump, even if she was fresh and energized, but not impossible to climb. A black silhouette on the other end motioned quickly, making the universal sign for _Hurry over here!_

There was no room, no time for hesitation. People were running somewhere below, towards her. Something thumped at the boarded up entrance, a loud terrifying drumbeat, and the sounds of yelling orders and victorious cries drifted towards her. The _whoosh_ of a jetpack joined the chorus, and she barely caught a glimpse of a blue lipless smile, cruel red eyes, a wide round brim of a hat before she grabbed onto the end of the cable and pulled. The hook came loose and she was falling, stunning streaks of energy flying around her, a loose rope wrapped haphazardly around her right arm as she neared the ground.

Then she was jolted upwards, accompanied by a crack and something cold forming in her forearm. Reeled in like a scalefish on a line, she found herself lying on a rooftop, staring at the stars in the sky as a silver-masked face bent loomed above hers.

The person offered a hand, which she accepted with her left. Immediately, arcs of purplish electricity rushed up her arm, encircling her like a furious biting web. Every muscle tensed painfully, as the painful, prickling sensation of a thousand stabbing knives rushed throughout her, attacking every nerve. It was too much for her weary, flagging brain to comprehend, and she fled, deep inside her, where there was nothing but darkness and quiet and nothing.

The only thought she could think before blackness overtook her was how lovely the stars looked, reflected in that shining visor.

* * *

There was, how one might say, a _slight_ problem.

Anakin, arriving at the bar, found nothing but several police speeders, a group of arrested unhappy bar-goers, an infuriated raving dug, and no Padawan.

"Easy, boys." He said, flashing an identification profile for them, when the came to shoo him away. "I'm just here to look for someone."

The bartender saw him, and grabbed him by both shoulders, and Anakin had to fight a wave of revulsion when he was reminded of Sebulba, his old racing rival from Tatooine.

"Jedi!" He sputtered, fleshy ears twitching wildly. "That girl, she did this! The ex-terrorist! I demand justice, fairness I deserve-"

"Enough. Hold on. Stop." Anakin pushed him off, trying to keep his face from twisting to one of loathing. The 'ex-terrorist', was that really what she was being called? Anger twisted, violent and boiling in his gut, and he tampered down the urge to destroy this person, and everyone else within a thirty foot radius. "You mean Ahsoka?"

"Yes!" He whined, tearing at his whiskers. "She came here, and then everything descended into chaos! Destroyed my bar! Ran away!"

"Ran where?" Fear trickled down his back, cold and evil. "Where did she go?"

"Climbed my bar like a Kowakian monkey lizard, and took off. I think she went that way," And he pointed with a flat circular finger in the vague direction of an abandoned apartment tower. "Saw lights and explosions over there too. I wouldn't be surprised if she wrecked the place, tried to offer help and that's what I get!"

Anakin left him rambling, and walked towards the tower, staring at it. It was far away, more than several kilos away. Knowing Ahsoka, she probably jumped over there, but he had no idea of knowing how far she had gone or if she was even still there.

He sighed frustratedly, running his metal hand through his hair. This was turning into a wild-goose chase instead of a rescue mission, if he found her he'd be sticking a tracking device on her shoes, he thought.

An idea sparked in his mind, and he contemplated it slowly. They hadn't been Master and Padawan for more than half a year, so the mental connection was probably faded and gone. And yet, wasn't it worth a shot?

Closing his eyes, Anakin opened his mind and found the Force, as ready to serve and be molded as ever. Channeling it, he sent out probes, searching for a familiar presence, touching lightly upon minds before leaving and repeating. He spread the radius from one klick to two, two klicks to three, searching, cross-examining, feeling.

And finally, something familiar emerged. With a burst of joy, he recognized it, the same happy-go-lucky apprentice he had spent so long with, but that joy quickly melted away when he realized how changed it was, barely recognizable, like a battlefield after a war. Submerged in darkness, as if perpetually drowning, suffocating in despair.

 _Snips?_ He called out, sifting through the blackness with increasing panic. _Snips!_

A voice, dull, tinny, muted, as if from a broken radio, echoed back. _Skyguy?_

Tears almost burst forth from behind Anakin's closed eyes, and relief sagged his shoulders. _Yeah, it's me. Where are you?_

The reply was slow and befuddled, as if the replier was half asleep. _I...dunno. Silver and stars. Uhm...think I got duped._

 _Wait, what? What do you mean?_ It was unnerving, hearing his normally quick-witted and sharp friend so slow and lethargic. _Are you alright?_

 _I think I got kidnapped,_ Was the reply, and Anakin's relief was gone faster than a credit chip in the hands of a hutt. _I'm kinda knocked out right now...no idea where I am. Uh, was on a tall balcony last I checked. Near the balcony. Not anymore._

 _Just...sit tight. I'll be there quick_. A barely-noticeable affirmative response, and she was gone, slipped away into the darkness once more, where he could not follow.

Actually...there was something now, a small feeling of warmth. Anakin took a step forward, and it increased slightly; he stepped back, and it grew cold. A homing beacon.

Leave it to Snips to figure something like this out, even while passed out. He thought with a grin. Sending a quick "I'll be late, love you" message to Padme, he jumped onto the speeder and left, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of dust and an aggravated Dug.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for the support! I've been stuck with writer's block for a long, long while, so it's always appreciated to know people still like reading my stuff. Please enjoy, and as always, leave a review!**


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